by Carme Torras
“Got it, child’s play: the fastest ROB takes them one by one and that way the aero’car always comes back in one minute. So in total, 20, 10, 2, plus the two return journeys … Who does he think he is? Assuming I’m all washed up and taking it easy on me is he, the bastard? What does he take me for? Let him think what he wants, he’ll see.” He enters 34 and the table turns white hot: “Incorrect answer, the correct answer is …” “Stop!” he shouts as he smashes the pause button with his fist. “You’ve given me a trick question again. If my name is Craft I’ll get this one.”
4:39 p.m. – If he asked me for a clue, I would advise him to forget his prejudices: two humans can travel together too. But I don’t want him to penalize me for giving him the answer on a silver platter.
4:41 p.m. – Two minutes of silence. I move closer to him and lower my torso so I am at his eye level. I try to make him realize that I am here to help, but his arm flies out and, before it hits me, I move back.
4:44 p.m. – Five minutes of total stillness, on my part and his. Danger, my learning module is telling me, without suggesting any solution with guaranteed success. The extremely accurate model I have of my PROP predicts that after a few more seconds of silence he’ll yell at me: “Move it, you meddling pile of scrap metal, or do you think just standing there motionless will bring inspiration? You need some neurons in the attic too, you know.” The best antidote to his insults is to stop him saying them in the first place. I have to get there first, take the initiative. I emit: “Doctor, I have had the new prosthesis installed since last night, remember? Maybe I can be of use in the duel.”
“Fucking heap of scrap, that’s the first suggestion of any use you’ve come up with in a long time. I had envisioned a more noble purpose for the invention, but why not? Let’s try it.” He stands up with a sudden lightness and heads for the booth.
4:45 p.m. – “Where are you going? That is a secondary instrument, it doesn’t form part of the prototype, Leo Mar’10 said so himself. The real prosthesis is the one inside me.”
“Being right twice in one day would have been too much for your antiquated circuitry. Shut up and plug in my helmet and the other tools like that bioengineer’s ROB showed you.”
4:46 p.m. – “But, Doctor, ask me for clues to the riddle, pose questions, put me to the test, find out if I can stimulate your creative talent, like the inventor said.”
“Yes, that’s what he said, but he spent his time injecting signals into himself in this booth. I don’t merely want to benefit from his creativity, I want to expand my own!” The excessive emphasis on the last two words rings out like a detonation. “Hook me up, that’s an order.”
* * *
Oh Mom, what a mess I’ve gotten myself into. I’m not talking about the aero’car, it’s fine in here, but where we’re going: to CraftER, and in secret again. Just thinking about that cold, soulless platform gives me goosebumps … imagine what it’ll be like going out there again. Silvana says that if I go back there and nothing bad happens, all the images and the bad feelings will go away. Like putting one sticker on top of another. It’s not that I don’t trust her, I see how she looks at me and I know she’s doing this with the best of intentions, but she didn’t even know Xis and she doesn’t know what it’s like seeing her fall over and over again in my dreams.
I don’t want to think about it, because then I won’t be able to get it out of my head. I’ll look out the window like I did with Dad when we went on a plane. The fields looked so pretty down there, so small, like the squares on my quilt, and we went through clouds like they were foam. You felt free flying so close to heaven. Oh, heaven. I’m sure he would have corrected me and I would be happy listening to him talk about the layers of the atmosphere, the stars and faraway galaxies. Nowadays they must know tons more about all that stuff, but no one ever tells me about anything.
The view here is really different, but I still like looking at it from up high. The rectangles are vertical, and larger, maybe because we’re closer to them, and the colors are muted, apart from the buildings that are lit up, of course. I’ll recognize the CraftER golden pinecone right away. I’ll be so happy if we get to see Leo! I didn’t dare ask Silvana if we’d talk to him because I was so afraid she’d say no.
That’s it, I’m sure of it, I can see the main entrance. But what’s the pilot doing? We should be descending by now. How scary, Mom, I thought we were going to crash into it … now I can see that we’re going to land on a platform, maybe the one where I was with Xis. What nerve. I didn’t expect that from Silvana. She’s so concentrated on giving orders to the pilot, it’s like she’s forgotten about me. Look, just as I was saying that she turned to me.
“Is everything alright?”
“Yes. Will the aero’car be parked here the whole time?”
“It will leave us here and come to pick us up later. Does that bother you?”
“A bit. We’ll be stuck, with no way out, like with Xis.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be here with you … and we’ll have the connector, too.”
As if it had been activated by her mentioning it, Silvana receives a new attempt at connection and the word that appears on her visor this time alters her expression. And perhaps her plans.
* * *
Despite being completely focused on the line, Leo jumps when he hears ROBco’s voice:
“Priority: Silvana has just accepted the connection. Do you want to speak through me or should I open a direct line?”
“Direct, direct.” He hurries to respond, while inside he feels an explosion of euphoria, his plan has worked!
“Leo?” The woman’s voice sounds unsteady, as if she’s unsure of the ground she’s walking on. “Does ‘exquished’ mean you’ve injected the signals again?”
“Yes, and much more. Suddenly I understand a lot of things. Are you alone?”
“No, Celia is with me.”
“Celia …”—his voice breaks—“you’ll have to tell her the interview has been canceled. I’ve been fired.”
“She can hear you. Why don’t you come and explain it to her yourself?”
“I’d rather not leave the cubicle. I know you’re not going to like this but could you … both of you … come here?”
“Can you guarantee that Celia won’t be in any danger? The last thing she needs is to worsen her trauma.”
“I want to go.” Celia’s juvenile voice is full of determination. “I’m sure it’ll be good for me, didn’t you say seeing him would help me get rid of the bad memories?”
“You told her that?”
“Okay, we’re coming. Will our entry codes still work?”
“In theory, yes. I haven’t deleted them.”
“Right, then we’ll be there much sooner than you think.”
Leo nervously wrings his hands as he paces erratically around the cubicle. He hadn’t counted on the little girl coming, so now he’ll have to watch what he says. Who knows how it might affect her to find out that overnight the high-flying president of CraftER has become someone to flee from, and, to make things worse, that he has in his power the signals that Leo himself took from her. How embarrassing. As if his thoughts were moving back and forth in sync with his legs, he asks himself why what he so desired yesterday worries him so much today: seeing Celia again to thank her for all he has learned from her, before everything is wiped from his brain. Because it will be wiped. The phantom of amnesia falls over him again like a nightmare, the air gets thicker and it becomes more and more difficult to reach the wall. Until, with another turn, he remembers what Celia said: that Silvana had recommended seeing him. The change is intriguing. There he was falling all over himself to call her, convinced that she’d turned her back on him and that he’d never see either of them again, only to find out that she wasn’t so against it after all.
As consumed as he is going over all this, it takes him a few seconds to realize that ROBco is calling him insistently: Alpha+ has asked for help to connect the Doctor to the booth an
d, if Leo authorizes it, ROBco will go and fulfill the demand. As well as giving it permission, he urges it to go right away, making sure that its only priority is that the old man enjoys all the possibilities of his invention to their fullest extent. Perhaps experiencing transmutation in his own skin will provoke in him as strong a feeling of elation as it did in Leo, and he’ll realize the huge error he made in firing him and handing the project over to someone else. Not that that would change his image of the Doctor much, but at least it would buy him some precious time, with all his memory intact, to calmly decide what to do.
* * *
5:03 p.m. – These accessories have not been approved by the standards agency. I have to maximize precautions in order to avoid a severe penalization. Above all I must not pull on any of his hairs or scratch him. Last time, as punishment, he disconnected my voice synthesizer and it became so difficult to make him keep to his schedule that I almost lost my plus and got downgraded. Even though ROBco advised me to monitor only the Doctor’s basic variables, I will keep track of all his vital signs. As soon as one deviates from its baseline I will halt everything. I should not take any risks. More important than the whims of my PROP, I must safeguard his health.
“Hey, rust bucket, you’re not taking advantage and doing those narcotic tests I banned you from, are you?” Upon receiving the robot’s negative response he lies back down. “You can’t wait to get me to go to sleep when all I want is to be more awake than ever. Stop groping me and get on with connecting that invention.”
5:05 p.m. – “The bioengineer’s ROB is about to arrive. The process will be safer with it here.”
“You’re so useless! I didn’t spend so much time perfecting you just for you to depend on an inferior model.”
5:06 p.m. – “Sorry to correct you, Doctor: ROBco is the same model as me. And it is here now.”
“Well, then, get it to connect me.”
“Information: I have come to ensure you enjoy the booth as much as possible, President. Question: Are you comfortable?”
“About time: a ROB that gets its priorities straight! I’m not at all comfortable. Do I really have to have all this junk stuck all over me?”
“Verification: It has nothing to do with the booth. Alpha+: Why have you connected sensors to his chest and the back of his neck? I did not tell you to.”
5:08 p.m. – “I must ensure that the Doctor is not in danger at any moment.”
“Acceptance: It is your PROP. But it is also necessary to avoid him feeling uncomfortable.”
“Well said! Finally a ROB that’s learned what it had to learn. That goddamn engineer! If he did have a spark of talent, the invention has certainly multiplied it. Come on, get all this stuff off me and turn the booth on once and for all, I want to try it.”
5:09 p.m. – “Stop right there! Do not touch anything while the responsibility is mine.”
“How dare you contradict me, you foul creature? You’ll take it all off yourself, and I don’t want to hear another word on the subject!”
5:10 p.m. – “Agreed.” It obediently starts to remove the sensors. “But we will not be performing the experiment.”
“What do you think you are, you useless bastard? I’m the one who makes the decisions. I don’t need you, understand? Not for anything. Get the hell out of here before I immobilize you for good.”
5:11 p.m. – “I object: that would be against the rules. I cannot abandon my PROP when he is in danger.”
“Danger?” He stands up like a man possessed and heads for the robot. “You’re the one who’s become a danger: you drug me, you ration my pleasures, and now you want to prevent me from expanding my mind? It’s over, you lump of scrap!”
5:12 p.m. – “What are you doing? Do not switch off my synthesizer. We can talk about this. I will help you get what you want.”
“Not just the fucking synthesizer, no! I’ll disconnect you completely this time … and then I’ll be able to live in peace!”
5:13 p.m. – “Careful, Doctor, everything has been recorded … you know that Mr. Gat”
“There, fuck it, it’s done.”
He sits down again, satisfied, and turns to ROBco:
“Now, you, connect me to the bare essentials required to have my mind expanded just like your PROP’s was.”
* * *
The few minutes Leo waits for Silvana and Celia to arrive on his doorstep feel like an eternity. Celia is in front, brimming over with excitement, and, as soon as she enters, she hopefully holds out her hand to him. He’s so worked up that he responds with a quick, mechanical gesture that he immediately regrets, but doesn’t know how to put right. Especially since Silvana has just placed her hands on his shoulders and it seems like she’s about to hug him. But no, she steps back a little to look at him from head to toe:
“Now you’ll have to explain all this about your being ‘exquished.’”
“I’m sorry, there are only two seats.” He doesn’t know how to make the sentence sound less forced. “I’ll be fine standing.”
“You two can sit down.” Celia inspects the floor and decides it looks more comfortable than the one they use for massages at the ComU. “I can sit here, right? Or do I have to do some tests?”
“Not anymore, I’m sorry, it’s all over.”
“Why did they fire you? Was it before or after you had your revelation?” A hint of irony to safeguard Silvana’s perhaps a little too hasty return.
“Does the order matter? For me it’s all happened at once.” His tone isn’t one of spitefulness, it’s more like weariness. “You have to help me.”
“How?” Celia’s eyes widen.
“If I’d known …” He turns to Silvana. “You must have lawyers or someone at the ComU that deals with cases like mine. They can’t take it all, even my memory, without me being able to fight back. If this were an isolated case maybe, but I fear there may be hundreds, not to mention the clients who’ve been brainwashed like you said the other day. I have a lot of information, we could hurt them …”
“If you’re so sure, join the ComU, we’d be happy to have such a significant anti-techno among us. I promise I’ll do everything to get you all the resources available.”
“The problem is that I don’t know what I’ll remember when I leave here tomorrow. I’ll be a different person than the one I am today.” Suddenly he realizes that Celia must not understand anything he’s saying, so he explains: “Everything I’ve done on this project is linked to some waves that are inside here … that are, in fact, the Doctor’s brain signals,” he adds, addressing Silvana. “I will only remember what and when he wants me to.”
“You mean that bushy-browed specter that was spying on us the other day?”
“The president of CraftER himself, yes.”
“So he’s not watching us today?”
“He’s busy trying out my booth; he’s taken that too,” Leo complains, pointing to the space where it had been. “Please excuse me, I should find out how he’s doing.”
But what appears on the screen is ROBco, and Silvana can’t help thinking, somewhat sarcastically, that even the president’s tasks have been delegated to robots. A comment that suddenly seems inappropriate considering the news they’re getting: When he was connected to the booth, the Doctor’s vital signs strayed a long way from their baseline and the emergency protocol had to be applied. His recovery is moving at such a slow pace that the robot fears he could enter cardiac arrest at any moment and wants to know what effects suddenly stopping the session would have.
Leo jumps up as if he’s received an electric shock and shouts: “Don’t do it! It might kill him!” and starts pacing around the cubicle like an electron in a particle accelerator. He should have foreseen this, he thinks, the Doctor is an old man and his organs, which are accustomed to today’s lifestyle, have lost their capacity to absorb strong emotions. How could he have been so stupid? And he even thought there could be a way to save himself. Now he’s really fucked: the Doctor will surely hav
e relapses for the rest of his life.
Silvana and Celia watch him, not daring to intervene, until ROBco insists:
“Warning: forty beats per minute, danger of cardio-respiratory arrest.”
“What are you talking about? What’s his ROB doing? It should be doing something!”
“Information: He disconnected it.”
“WHAT??”
Leo drops into his seat dejectedly, and Celia takes his hand, as if she were comforting a sick person.
“Announcement: The Doctor is dead. Question: What should I do?”
“A death trap … that’s what I’ve invented. Now I’ll have to go into hiding. What must you think of me, Silvana? You almost tried it out yourself …”
She is momentarily paralyzed by the thought of what might have happened to her, but hearing the boy speak makes something inside of her rise up:
“Don’t talk like that, it was an accident, it’s not your fault. He was the one who disconnected his ROB, right? Maybe he knew exactly what he was getting himself into and that’s what he wanted: to commit suicide.”
“Much the opposite, he wanted to get younger, to suck the life out of someone else”—his eyes wander toward Celia, but he avoids looking at her. “Shame on me, I’ve been happily toying with the most delicate material in the world.”
“Repetition: What should I do?”
“You two can tell it. I don’t even know what to do with myself.”
“Let’s take this step-by-step.” Silvana switches into crisis-management mode. “There must be someone we have to inform about what’s happened.”
“Yes, Mr. Gatew … but they’ll blame me …”
“Clarification: The lady is right. They can’t blame you because Alpha+’s record will have saved proof that the PROP disconnected it.”
“Oh, what a robot! Inform this Mr. person and then come here, I see you can be of use to us.” And, addressing Leo once again: “Let’s look at the positives: you’re free. The person who was keeping you prisoner has disappeared, you’re no longer subject to his brainwaves …”